


Two Moments of Shame

by EyeLoch



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Public Humiliation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:17:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8718832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeLoch/pseuds/EyeLoch
Summary: What if Ezra’s hair cut between seasons 2 and 3 was in some way a mark of his shame over what happened on Malachor?After all, most humans we see on Lothal either have their hair covered or fairly long (or, like Zare Leonis, are new to Lothal).This story explores this idea...





	

Ezra Bridger wanted to run.

This wasn’t as normal for him as you may think.  True, as a street rat he spent a great deal of his time trying to escape, but longing to was rarely the case.  After all, dwelling on anything for too long made him wish he was a year younger – and still with his parents.

Perhaps that was why he stayed here, risking a beating at the very least, to see this.  Perhaps this would stop him trying to get them (or something like them) back.

“Oab Rachum is a disgrace,” the woman yelled into the growing crowd.  “He bought some piece of filth from the streets into my house, and fed it from my pantry!”

Hidden from view behind a vent, Ezra heard the jeers and boos from the crowd.  He shivered in the full heat of the midday sun.

“The child was starving,” Oab cried over the tumult, “I helped a fellow sentient!”

“You’ve never had a home yourself, have you?” The woman continued – reddish hair whipping around as she spoke.  “I let you lodge here out of the kindness of my heart, and **this** is how you repay me?”

As she continued to spit venom at the young man, the crowd closed in.  

“The orphanage was one step to homelessness anyway-“ “Just goes to show –“ “Ignorant of the proper way to do things-“

Ezra shrank against the vent as the crowd spewed venom at him and the young man who helped him for just a handful of nights.  Right now he wished that he’d been killed along with…

No.  He had to live.

“You took him to your room,” the woman continued (somehow still over the sounds of the crowd), “you’re no different to that scum Wallaway!”

The crowd forced Oab to his knees, insulting him all the while.  For once in his eight years, Ezra wished the Stormtroopers would march in – break up this public spectacle like they did most others.  But no one came.

With a flourish, the landlady produced a razor.  Even a few in the crowd – whipped up as they were – blanched at what was coming and slunk off.  Oab paled and shook. Then silver blade met dark skin, and it began.

“Oab Rachum,” she crowed, as black hair fell on grey duracrete, “I shame you for your disrespect of my house, of my standing and of Lothal’s traditions.”

It seemed to last an eternity, but suddenly it was over – nothing but stubble was left on his head.  Everyone could see what Lothal thought of him.

Ezra tried to speak with Oab once, after that, but a punch to the stomach was all he got.  Perhaps they could have understood each other, but compassion tends to get you killed on the street – even more than longing.

* * *

Almost 9 years later, Ezra Bridger wanted to run.

Nothing in particular brought it on, all he was doing was trying to fix an aging oxygen recycler in the Ghost. But, that happened these days - feelings of uselessness and failure just rose to the surface without warning.  In the old days, back before Malachor, he’d ask Kanan how to meditate them away – or at least for something that could take his mind of them.

But Kanan didn’t have time for him anymore – he had to learn how to deal with the results of Ezra’s mistakes.  Sabine couldn’t fit in vents as well as she used to, and so, the tedious and isolated work of scraping the gunk out of the filters let him dwell.

As he flicked his hair out of his eyes again, he contemplated how he’d shamed the Jedi Order by trusting Maul.  With each scrape of the knife on the grate, he mulled over how he disrespected his new family.  His hair landed in his eyes again.  In irritation he sliced at it with the knife.

As blue hair fell on grey metal, he realised what he’d just started.  It felt right, after all he’d cost them – after how many times he nearly killed them.  In sudden fury he hacked at his hair – almost cutting into his scalp several times. 

As blue hairs littered the vent and floor below, Ezra felt somewhat better – after all, in some small way, he’d started to pay for what he’d done.


End file.
